When once the Virgin had been exalted and glorified in the celestial paradise, the next and the most natural result was, that she should be regarded as being in heaven the most powerful of intercessors, and on earth a most benign and ever-present protectress.  In the mediaeval idea of Christ, there was often something stern; the Lamb of God who died for the sins of the world, is also the inexorable Judge of the quick and the dead.  When he shows his wounds, it is as if a vindictive feeling was supposed to exist; as if he were called upon to remember in judgment the agonies and the degradation to which he had been exposed below for the sake of wicked ungrateful men.  In a Greek “Day of Judgment,” cited by Didron, Moses holds up a scroll, on which is written, “Behold Him whom ye crucified,” while the Jews are dragged into everlasting fire.  Everywhere is the sentiment of vengeance; Christ himself is less a judge than an avenger.  Not so the Virgin; she is represented as all mercy, sympathy, and benignity.  In some of the old pictures of the Day of Judgment, she is seated by the side of Christ, on an equality with him, and often in an attitude of deprecation, as if adjuring him, to relent:  or her eyes are turned on the redeemed souls, and she looks away from the condemned as if unable to endure the sight of their doom.  In other pictures she is lower than Christ, but always on his right hand, and generally seated; while St. John the Baptist, who is usually placed opposite to her on the left of Christ, invariably stands or kneels.  Instead of the Baptist, it is sometimes, but rarely, John the Evangelist, who is the pendant of the Virgin.

In the Greek representations of the Last Judgment, a river of fire flows from under the throne of Christ to devour and burn up the wicked.[1] In western art the idea is less formidable,—­Christ is not at once judge and executioner; but the sentiment is always sufficiently terrible; “the angels and all the powers of heaven tremble before him.”  In the midst of these terrors, the Virgin, whether kneeling, or seated, or standing, always appears as a gentle mediator, a, supplicant for mercy.  In the “Day of Judgment,” as represented in the “Hortus Deliciarum,” [2] we read inscribed under her figure the words “Maria, Filio suo pro Ecclesia supplicat.”  In a very fine picture by Martin Schoen (Schleissheim Gal.), it is the Father, who, with a sword and three javelins in his hand, sits as the avenging judge; near him Christ; while the Virgin stands in the foreground, looking up to her Son with an expression of tender supplication, and interceding, as it appears, for the sinners kneeling round her, and whose imploring looks are directed to her.  In the well-known fresco by Andrea Ortagna (Pisa, Campo Santo), Christ and the Virgin sit throned above, each in a separate aureole, but equally glorified.  Christ, pointing with one hand to the wound in his side, raises the other in a threatening attitude, and his attention is directed to the wicked, whom he hurls into perdition.  The Virgin, with one hand pressed to her bosom, looks to him with an air of supplication.  Both figures are regally attired, and wear radiant crowns; and the twelve apostles attend them, seated on each side.